Chocolate 13, Papaya 23 [Divide and Rule]
Title: What Can I Give
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide & Rule)
Flavor(s): Chocolate #13 (humility), Papaya #23 (you’ve outdone yourself)
Toppings/Extras: Gummy Bunnies (also for hc_bingo square “nausea”)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 4229
Notes: Christmas 1949, Edward Iveson/Julia Graves, Diana Foyle. (I was hesitating for a while as to whether or not I should actually type this up, but I decided to, and can only apologise that it is also unavoidably Christmas fluff. In the middle of summer. /o\ The "nausea" prompt is not really literal, though, not unless it's the reader's understandable reaction.)
Summary: Edward takes Julia away for their first Christmas, and it almost goes so well…
***
“And Julia,” announced Diana Foyle to a woman Julia didn’t even know, “is going away for Christmas.”
Julia turned to Diana as soon as the woman had moved on, unsure whether to laugh or be annoyed.
“I thought,” said Diana, mock-innocently, “that it was possible you might forget to mention it.”
Julia gave in and laughed. “I haven’t been that bad, have I?”
“Well, you’ve told me three times, you know. And, really, my memory isn’t that poor.”
Julia glanced at Diana more closely, wondering if she’d been insensitive. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so thoughtless - to ram things down your throat. It’s only that - oh, it’s impossible to explain, but we haven’t been away like that since the wedding.”
“Oh, no need to worry about me, my dear,” said Diana, taking her arm. “I’ve been invited to my brother’s and I’m looking forward to it, I assure you. Besides, I don’t begrudge anyone else their happiness. Although, I have to say it’s just as well you’re not that obvious to everyone else around here. They’d have to stop their gossiping and that would spoil all their fun.”
Julia shrugged. “Well, then, perhaps I should be. I do wish people would - well, I wish they would mind their own damn business!”
“It’s only human nature,” said Diana. “And it’s your own fault, you know. Edward marrying you out of the blue like that - it was bound to cause talk. They’re all waiting for you to make a fool out of him.”
Julia found it hard to rein in her impatience at everyone else’s stupidity. “Well, they can wait forever, can’t they?”
“It’s nothing,” Diana said, putting a hand to Julia’s arm. “Don’t let it worry you. As you say, they’ll grow tired of it when nothing interesting happens - and, you know, I do believe someone said you might be going away for the week.”
Julia closed her eyes, laughing again at Diana’s teasing.
Edward had arranged everything - he had rented a cottage in Northumberland from someone Mr Harding knew, and even if there was something a little ironic about waiting for the middle of winter to head as far north as you could get and still be in England, Julia was very happy about the idea. She’d had a few qualms when he first suggested it, mainly because she wondered if that meant he had some reason for not wishing her to share Christmas with his family and she hadn’t quite liked to ask.
As she’d told Diana, the only other time they’d been away together had been the three and a half days that had made up their honeymoon. That time had been unexpectedly nice, but everything had been very uncertain and awkward for months afterwards. It was only what they deserved for making such an odd arrangement that was and wasn’t at all a marriage of convenience, but it was only in the last month or so that she’d finally been able to tell Edward that she loved him too, and had done from nearly the beginning. But even now, between all the politics, their hired help, Mrs Crosbie, and various friends and relations, wanted and unwanted, there were always other things else cutting into their time together.
Julia was still feeling ridiculously happy when they caught the train out of King’s Cross, sitting together in a first class carriage and gradually watching London disappear behind them. It felt so odd sometimes, to be happy at all, she thought as she stared out of the window, seeing first all the uneven rows of drab houses that made out the outskirts of London, and intermittently, her ghostly face smiling back at her in the window, as they went into another tunnel. It seemed to have been a long time of first worrying, then grieving, and all the while being so very lonely, that the feeling was unfamiliar, even alarming.
“Do you think it might snow?” she asked Edward, a couple of hours later, as the train drew out of York, glimpsing beyond the station, the towers of the Minster, fairy tale-like in the fading afternoon light. “Would we be stuck there till spring?”
Edward laughed. “You sound as if you’re hoping we might be.”
“Well, I don’t think I’d mind too much,” she said, threading her fingers through his. “For a week or two at least.”
He smiled at her. “We did promise Diana we’d be back for her New Year’s party.”
“Oh, yes,” she said, turning her head. “Are you sure your family won’t be offended, with us going away like this?”
Edward squeezed her hand lightly. “I shouldn’t think so for a minute. Even if they are, I’m afraid there’s no hope they’ll stop talking to us. Besides, it’s a little late to change our minds now, you know.”
“Good,” said Julia, but she worried again, which was almost a relief, since the happiness had started to feel unnerving.
He frowned slightly. “Julia, I thought this might be nice, all considered - and I did wonder if you might find it easier this way. I didn’t know whether you might find it something of an ordeal, getting through a family affair like that.” When she gave him a startled look in response, he added, “Don’t you remember, before the wedding, when we stayed with Amy, and you were - upset?”
“Oh,” Julia said. She didn’t know whether to be somewhat nettled at the idea that she couldn’t cope with such a simple thing, or touched that he’d remembered an incident that she’d already forgotten. She would have liked to think that wouldn’t happen again, but she hadn’t considered it in that light. It might have been draining, she admitted inwardly, and then had to give up on herself, since now she found herself feeling stupidly happy at his concern.
Edward reached for his newspaper and gave her what she knew to be a deceptively solemn look. “Anyway,” he said, reverting to the start of the conversation, “I think it’s forecast to rain. We stand more chance of being flooded out than snowed in, but let’s hope not.”
“But it’s the north!” said Julia. “What is the point if it doesn’t snow?”
Edward shrugged, and then looked amused. “I’m sorry, I could arrange everything else, but that one’s outside my power…”
They made it into Newcastle before six, emerging into the smoke of central station in time to find a table for dinner at one of the nearby hotels. After that, they had to hurry back to the station to catch a train on to Morpeth and from there, a taxi cab to the cottage.
The next day was Christmas Eve, and so full of preparations. Edward headed up the lane to where Harding’s friend had assured him there was a farm that could supply them with milk and other odd fresh items, while Julia took the delivery of the hamper (from a rather disgruntled driver who thought the village and cottage had both been a bit too far out of his way), and then turned her attention to trying to decorate. Nothing much, she thought, even if she had been able to, but she put on her coat and headed out into the damp to see about maybe at least finding one or two sprigs of holly.
At the end of the day, they walked down to the tiny Anglo-Saxon church in the village for the evening service, and Julia found herself getting teary eyed merely at that, so she wondered again if Edward had had a point. Her last few Christmases had been a lot less festive - the previous two, she’d been alone, away from home, and before that there had been what now seemed to have been an endless period of war, and while she’d had some friends, it hadn’t been the same as it had been growing up. Mother had always loved Christmas. It was full of the things she’d liked - decorations and parties, buying presents and planning surprises - everything, in fact, Julia thought with a smile at the memory.
She thought about all those other Christmases quite hard on the way back, hand in hand with Edward, not able to feel safe enough to think about this one, that it was starting a new tradition together. It was best not to, not yet.
The next morning, Julia woke as Edward disappeared somewhere, and then returned with a tea tray.
“I was going to do that,” said Julia, stifling a yawn, as she pulled herself up against the pillows, and then gave a shiver at the cold.
Edward gave her a smile. “I was rather determined that you wouldn’t. Holiday tradition, you know.”
“Oh, well,” said Julia, smiling back, though she felt some of her anxiety of the previous evening return at his words, “of course, if it’s tradition, who am I to argue?”
He leaned into kiss her, and said Merry Christmas, and she had to hide a further sense of fear, turning aside to make a performance of finding her dressing gown and complaining about the cold, anything to avoid the sense of things, if only temporarily, being too perfect to be true. They’d cheated, she thought, and they’d have to pay for it. They hadn’t done anything about getting married or falling in love in the right order or the right way. They’d gone straight to Go and collected £200 without following the rules or landing on all the proper squares first.
“Julia?” said Edward, and she gave him a guilty look, wondering how she could explain such ridiculous alarm to him, but then he only said, in mild puzzlement, “Well? You did want tea, didn’t you?”
Despite her best intentions, she still found it a difficult day to get through, silly as that was. As if it was fine to be happy on any other day of the week or month, or as if this could be described as perfect, when they were here in weather that remained obstinately wet and not at all snowy, and she was with Edward who wouldn’t even hold her hand in church last night because he didn’t think it was appropriate (and who fussed far too much about putting his clothes away neatly each night, even when half of them were bound to be going in the laundry the next morning).
She covered herself by claiming to be worried about the dinner, which she wasn’t; it was all quite straight forward, even with Edward theoretically helping, and it wasn’t as if anyone else was here. If she had burned something, it would only have been a joke between them.
By the time that was done and eaten, she was feeling far less wary of everything and more inclined to laugh at herself. And she had a more genuine worry to occupy her mind now - that of whether or not he would like the present she’d bought him. She hoped so. It had taken rather a lot of thought, and much walking up and down of Charing Cross Road, but it might have been better not to try so hard.
“It is a little odd without a tree, isn’t it?” said Edward, observing the room.
Julia pointed to the holly she’d used to decorate the mantelpiece. “I tried my best.”
“I’m sorry,” said Edward. “Yes, of course. I see it now. That’s clearly much better.”
Julia bit back a laugh. “Thank you kindly. Now, do sit down, and open this first because I’ve been worrying that it’s the wrong thing since November.”
“But -” said Edward, and then stopped himself, as he sat beside her on the sofa.
Julia had to look away to hide her amusement. “Oh, I am sorry, darling. Is there a set order for these things?”
“No,” said Edward, but still hesitated.
She poked him and laughed as she handed the parcel to him. “Oh, but clearly there is, in your mind at least. I tell you what, you open that and put me out of my misery first, and then we’ll do the rest in order, and I won’t open yours till last. Does that sound reasonable?”
“No, it sounds entirely unfair,” said Edward, trying not to laugh himself. “However, if you insist, of course.”
Julia settled herself in more comfortably. “I do, I’m afraid.”
He untied the bow and set about unwrapping the three obviously book-shaped packages, with Julia watching intently for his reaction.
“You’ll never believe how long I spent studying your bookshelves,” she said, as he opened the first. “So at least I know that you haven’t got those, although of course, I don’t know if you’ll want them - but I did try very hard, so that counts for something, doesn’t it?”
He’d reached the second now, distracted enough by looking at the two books - both history - so as not to take in what she was saying. “Hmm?”
“Nothing,” said Julia, and smiled, because that was definitely a good sign. “The other one,” she added, as he slowly pulled off the paper, “is because I’ve noticed a strange thing when I go to the library. You see, whenever I get back and decide that I shall now try and read that interesting murder I picked up, it’s always been stolen - and you’ll never guess where I keep finding them.”
He laughed. “Julia! Thank you.”
“Good,” she said, and smiled at him in relief.
They opened the few other presents, then, mostly from his relatives, although there was one from her uncle, which she’d been extremely annoyed to receive, all the more so because Edward had insisted she buy her uncle something from them, however small. He was her only close living relative, and he was bound to give her something, he’d said, and she’d initially argued with him over it, since the last thing she felt like doing to Uncle Lionel was giving him a present, and she’d claimed that he was a heartless old man who probably didn’t bother with Christmas anyway, not unlike Scrooge, so his arrival one afternoon last week to wish them merry Christmas and hand over a gift had not gone down well with Julia, although Edward had at least got to say that he’d told her so.
Julia realised then that they’d opened the last present, with one important omission, and she looked at Edward, knowing he was teasing her, keeping her waiting, except that she couldn’t help feeling suddenly uncertain again. Maybe this week was the present? Maybe everything was. When you looked at it that way, he’d given her so much already.
Edward leaned forward and grinned. “Close your eyes,” he said.
“Oh, really,” said Julia, but she obeyed, trying at the same time not to laugh over her momentary foolishness. She opened her eyes again, when she felt him place the present in her lap. She pulled off the paper and opened up the case inside, realising that it must be some kind of jewellery. She found herself looking at a silver necklace, with delicate sprays of tiny diamonds hanging down from it, and matching earrings, and it was too much suddenly in every way possible.
She dropped the box, feeling light-headed and slightly sick. It was too perfect, too much, as if somehow it made her exactly what all the gossips seemed to think she was - in this marriage for everything she could get from him. And underneath it lay the terror at trying to reach for more than she’d been permitted from life, or at least more than she deserved.
“Julia,” he said, his teasing humour falling swiftly into dismay at her reaction. “Don’t you like it? I wasn’t sure - but you don’t have to keep it -”
She didn’t have any idea how to answer him; she merely shook her head, not so much in answer as to ward away his questions, and then she jumped up and left the room at a run, convinced for one moment that she actually was going to be sick, but by the time she reached the door, the feeling had passed, and she sank down on the doorstep, heedless of the damp and cold, shaken and ashamed of herself. She leant her head against the doorway and tried not to cry. It wasn’t really the gift itself, she supposed, only the culmination of the fear that had been dogging her, not only this holiday, but from the first moment she’d truly realised what she’d done in marrying Edward.
It was an unexpected gift she’d been given, and she was too afraid to accept it fully. She knew it wasn’t rational to feel this way, but it was a deep down, illogical conviction she hadn’t yet been able to shake; that if she let go of these worries and took hold of this, of Edward, that she would inevitably lose him. The people she loved were always taken away; that was how it was.
“Julia,” said Edward from somewhere behind her. She didn’t turn around to look. He sounded as if he was trying with difficulty to reserve judgement, probably understandably annoyed at her odd behaviour. “At least come back inside.”
She breathed in, wondering if she might feel sick again, but she didn’t, so she stood cautiously and turned around to look at him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It wasn’t your present, not really. It was only -” She let her voice tail away and shrugged.
“I merely thought you might like it,” he said, sounding stiff, and she had to blink back mixed tears and amusement at his understandable bafflement. “I can see I should have let you choose.”
She pushed the door shut behind her, and wiped away her tears. “Oh, no, Edward. Don’t - it isn’t that, I promise.” She gave a slight laugh. “It was too nice! I just -” She stopped again, wondering how to explain the rest of it to him.
“It won’t be a problem to return it,” he said, evidently doubting her, and she could hardly blame him. “You don’t need to pretend.”
Julia straightened herself, her back still against the door, and raised her chin. “Oh, no, no, you don’t understand,” she said, moving forward, and taking his arm. “Honestly, it isn’t that. I think it might be the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever given me, and if you take it back to the shop, I shall never speak to you again!”
Her hyperbole won a small smile from him, and she let him usher back into the cosier sitting room.
“Then, Julia, why?” he asked, putting his hand to her shoulder. “Aren’t you feeling well?”
She walked past him, back to the sofa, and then sat down beside it on the rug by the fire. “No, not really.” She could lie, she thought, but it wouldn’t be the best idea. “Oh, Ned, it’s all so silly. Please, forget it. And the necklace is lovely, honestly, and it’ll go so well with the dress for Diana’s party.”
“I thought it might do,” he said, “but I’m hardly the best judge of these things.”
Julia closed her eyes. “It was only - a little too much. Everything was so nice already, and sometimes - sometimes people talk about us, you know. Because the marriage was so sudden. And they say - well, you know what they say.”
“Yes, but you and I know that’s not true,” he said, and then sat down beside her. “Don’t we?” he asked, looking at her.
She nodded. “Except that in some ways, they are right. What exactly is my end of the bargain, Edward? A few dinner parties here and there, and then all I do is - just take everything. I don’t like that being true.”
“Oh, honestly, Julia!” he said in sudden impatience. “What do you think I am? And it isn’t a bargain any more, not like that. Isn’t that what you told me? Or was that a lie?”
“No, no!” said Julia. “You know I meant it.”
Edward gave a slight, helpless shrug. “Well, then,” he said, as if that was answer to everything and Julia didn’t need him to explain. If she loved him, as she claimed, how could she talk of not giving him anything?
Julia hunched a little, beginning to feel merely petty and unreasonable. “It made my present look so stupid and small.”
“No, it didn’t,” said Edward. “Julia! You know, someone was telling me the other day that women shouldn’t work - makes them too independent. I thought he was talking nonsense, but perhaps he has a point.”
Julia lifted her head, unable to help rising to the bait. “Oh?” she said. “Who was that, exactly? I shall certainly cross them off the dinner list.”
“It’s no sillier to give very much credence to that sort of thing, than taking to heart to what other people say about us.” He slid his arm around her, and gave her a sidelong, humorous look. “Or do you think they know things that we don’t? It is possible, I suppose.”
She bit her lip, feeling that she might easily cry if she let herself laugh, and, anyway, he was quite obviously trying to nudge her into a better mood and she wasn’t sure she wanted to let him, if for no other reason than pure pig-headedness. “Oh, be all logical,” she said.
“I’m not,” he said, more seriously. “Logic would suggest that you must have disliked something about the necklace - or that you had been lying, wouldn’t it?”
Julia shot him an alarmed look.
“As it happens,” he said, tilting his head as he met her gaze, “I find that an awful lot of people aren’t always very logical, don’t you?”
She did laugh, then, and leant against him. “I can’t help it,” she said. “It’s not only that, you see, but I get so scared - as if I’m simply asking for fate to take you away if I’m not careful. If everything’s too perfect, even for a moment, then - I suppose I panic. I know that certainly isn’t logical, but it doesn’t stop me feeling that way. Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but it isn’t the first time this has happened, and I’m sorry.”
Edward didn’t say anything immediately, though he tightened his hold on her, and she looked up them as she realised he was trying not to laugh.
“Edward!”
“Well, Julia,” he said, still smiling as he looked at her, “you come with a curse attached, do you, like some Egyptian relic? I knew there had to be a catch somewhere.”
Julia drew in her breath to try and answer him, but he kissed her instead, and she didn’t really feel inclined to be as annoyed as she probably should be about that.
“I don’t mean to be unkind,” he said, with one hand still touching her face, lightly. “I’m sure it must have been difficult for you - but do you think that everyone else who suffered similar losses during the War has to share that curse, or is it only you?”
Julia pressed her head in against him. “Only me, of course,” she said, and while she was amused, too, she couldn’t help feeling nervous. She’d told him that she loved him; she hadn’t told him before that she still didn’t really have anyone else and that she was terrified of losing him. That wasn’t a wise thing to admit, and now she had, quite clearly, even if in a roundabout way. She thought then about how she’d drawn his confession of his feelings out of him that first week together, and the way she’d felt sometimes since then as if she had an unfair advantage. Now, the advantage was his, and she felt shaken in ways both good and bad. It wasn’t what she’d planned on giving him today, but it seemed she had.
“Julia,” he said, pushing her away gently, so that he could kiss her again. “Something will happen one day; that’s life, it’s guaranteed. And I can understand the feeling, but -”
She put her arms around him, cutting him short. “I know,” she said, indistinctly. “I know. It’s so silly.”
“Now, I didn’t say that,” he told her, stroking her hair. “And you needn’t worry. Perfection is probably beyond us, anyway. Certainly, if it makes you feel better, I’m sure we can manage to argue again before the day is out - one day, I may even be cruel enough to give you jewellery again!”
Julia laughed, and then pulled him in against her, closing her eyes. “No, it is stupid of me,” she said in his ear, before kissing him in return. She still felt light-headed with nerves, and perhaps simultaneously with relief. She hung onto him, and then added, “Well, you were right, you know. It would never have done for us to have gone to your family.”
“Quite,” he said. “It would definitely be frowned upon to carry on like this in the living room.”
It was much, much too late to panic, and had been for a long while. There was nothing she could do to make the hurt of losing him less when it came; she supposed the same was probably true of him, and there was no reason not to steal any moments of happiness that came their way. She had, she thought, been in much too deep from the start.
***
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide & Rule)
Flavor(s): Chocolate #13 (humility), Papaya #23 (you’ve outdone yourself)
Toppings/Extras: Gummy Bunnies (also for hc_bingo square “nausea”)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 4229
Notes: Christmas 1949, Edward Iveson/Julia Graves, Diana Foyle. (I was hesitating for a while as to whether or not I should actually type this up, but I decided to, and can only apologise that it is also unavoidably Christmas fluff. In the middle of summer. /o\ The "nausea" prompt is not really literal, though, not unless it's the reader's understandable reaction.)
Summary: Edward takes Julia away for their first Christmas, and it almost goes so well…
***
“And Julia,” announced Diana Foyle to a woman Julia didn’t even know, “is going away for Christmas.”
Julia turned to Diana as soon as the woman had moved on, unsure whether to laugh or be annoyed.
“I thought,” said Diana, mock-innocently, “that it was possible you might forget to mention it.”
Julia gave in and laughed. “I haven’t been that bad, have I?”
“Well, you’ve told me three times, you know. And, really, my memory isn’t that poor.”
Julia glanced at Diana more closely, wondering if she’d been insensitive. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so thoughtless - to ram things down your throat. It’s only that - oh, it’s impossible to explain, but we haven’t been away like that since the wedding.”
“Oh, no need to worry about me, my dear,” said Diana, taking her arm. “I’ve been invited to my brother’s and I’m looking forward to it, I assure you. Besides, I don’t begrudge anyone else their happiness. Although, I have to say it’s just as well you’re not that obvious to everyone else around here. They’d have to stop their gossiping and that would spoil all their fun.”
Julia shrugged. “Well, then, perhaps I should be. I do wish people would - well, I wish they would mind their own damn business!”
“It’s only human nature,” said Diana. “And it’s your own fault, you know. Edward marrying you out of the blue like that - it was bound to cause talk. They’re all waiting for you to make a fool out of him.”
Julia found it hard to rein in her impatience at everyone else’s stupidity. “Well, they can wait forever, can’t they?”
“It’s nothing,” Diana said, putting a hand to Julia’s arm. “Don’t let it worry you. As you say, they’ll grow tired of it when nothing interesting happens - and, you know, I do believe someone said you might be going away for the week.”
Julia closed her eyes, laughing again at Diana’s teasing.
Edward had arranged everything - he had rented a cottage in Northumberland from someone Mr Harding knew, and even if there was something a little ironic about waiting for the middle of winter to head as far north as you could get and still be in England, Julia was very happy about the idea. She’d had a few qualms when he first suggested it, mainly because she wondered if that meant he had some reason for not wishing her to share Christmas with his family and she hadn’t quite liked to ask.
As she’d told Diana, the only other time they’d been away together had been the three and a half days that had made up their honeymoon. That time had been unexpectedly nice, but everything had been very uncertain and awkward for months afterwards. It was only what they deserved for making such an odd arrangement that was and wasn’t at all a marriage of convenience, but it was only in the last month or so that she’d finally been able to tell Edward that she loved him too, and had done from nearly the beginning. But even now, between all the politics, their hired help, Mrs Crosbie, and various friends and relations, wanted and unwanted, there were always other things else cutting into their time together.
Julia was still feeling ridiculously happy when they caught the train out of King’s Cross, sitting together in a first class carriage and gradually watching London disappear behind them. It felt so odd sometimes, to be happy at all, she thought as she stared out of the window, seeing first all the uneven rows of drab houses that made out the outskirts of London, and intermittently, her ghostly face smiling back at her in the window, as they went into another tunnel. It seemed to have been a long time of first worrying, then grieving, and all the while being so very lonely, that the feeling was unfamiliar, even alarming.
“Do you think it might snow?” she asked Edward, a couple of hours later, as the train drew out of York, glimpsing beyond the station, the towers of the Minster, fairy tale-like in the fading afternoon light. “Would we be stuck there till spring?”
Edward laughed. “You sound as if you’re hoping we might be.”
“Well, I don’t think I’d mind too much,” she said, threading her fingers through his. “For a week or two at least.”
He smiled at her. “We did promise Diana we’d be back for her New Year’s party.”
“Oh, yes,” she said, turning her head. “Are you sure your family won’t be offended, with us going away like this?”
Edward squeezed her hand lightly. “I shouldn’t think so for a minute. Even if they are, I’m afraid there’s no hope they’ll stop talking to us. Besides, it’s a little late to change our minds now, you know.”
“Good,” said Julia, but she worried again, which was almost a relief, since the happiness had started to feel unnerving.
He frowned slightly. “Julia, I thought this might be nice, all considered - and I did wonder if you might find it easier this way. I didn’t know whether you might find it something of an ordeal, getting through a family affair like that.” When she gave him a startled look in response, he added, “Don’t you remember, before the wedding, when we stayed with Amy, and you were - upset?”
“Oh,” Julia said. She didn’t know whether to be somewhat nettled at the idea that she couldn’t cope with such a simple thing, or touched that he’d remembered an incident that she’d already forgotten. She would have liked to think that wouldn’t happen again, but she hadn’t considered it in that light. It might have been draining, she admitted inwardly, and then had to give up on herself, since now she found herself feeling stupidly happy at his concern.
Edward reached for his newspaper and gave her what she knew to be a deceptively solemn look. “Anyway,” he said, reverting to the start of the conversation, “I think it’s forecast to rain. We stand more chance of being flooded out than snowed in, but let’s hope not.”
“But it’s the north!” said Julia. “What is the point if it doesn’t snow?”
Edward shrugged, and then looked amused. “I’m sorry, I could arrange everything else, but that one’s outside my power…”
They made it into Newcastle before six, emerging into the smoke of central station in time to find a table for dinner at one of the nearby hotels. After that, they had to hurry back to the station to catch a train on to Morpeth and from there, a taxi cab to the cottage.
The next day was Christmas Eve, and so full of preparations. Edward headed up the lane to where Harding’s friend had assured him there was a farm that could supply them with milk and other odd fresh items, while Julia took the delivery of the hamper (from a rather disgruntled driver who thought the village and cottage had both been a bit too far out of his way), and then turned her attention to trying to decorate. Nothing much, she thought, even if she had been able to, but she put on her coat and headed out into the damp to see about maybe at least finding one or two sprigs of holly.
At the end of the day, they walked down to the tiny Anglo-Saxon church in the village for the evening service, and Julia found herself getting teary eyed merely at that, so she wondered again if Edward had had a point. Her last few Christmases had been a lot less festive - the previous two, she’d been alone, away from home, and before that there had been what now seemed to have been an endless period of war, and while she’d had some friends, it hadn’t been the same as it had been growing up. Mother had always loved Christmas. It was full of the things she’d liked - decorations and parties, buying presents and planning surprises - everything, in fact, Julia thought with a smile at the memory.
She thought about all those other Christmases quite hard on the way back, hand in hand with Edward, not able to feel safe enough to think about this one, that it was starting a new tradition together. It was best not to, not yet.
The next morning, Julia woke as Edward disappeared somewhere, and then returned with a tea tray.
“I was going to do that,” said Julia, stifling a yawn, as she pulled herself up against the pillows, and then gave a shiver at the cold.
Edward gave her a smile. “I was rather determined that you wouldn’t. Holiday tradition, you know.”
“Oh, well,” said Julia, smiling back, though she felt some of her anxiety of the previous evening return at his words, “of course, if it’s tradition, who am I to argue?”
He leaned into kiss her, and said Merry Christmas, and she had to hide a further sense of fear, turning aside to make a performance of finding her dressing gown and complaining about the cold, anything to avoid the sense of things, if only temporarily, being too perfect to be true. They’d cheated, she thought, and they’d have to pay for it. They hadn’t done anything about getting married or falling in love in the right order or the right way. They’d gone straight to Go and collected £200 without following the rules or landing on all the proper squares first.
“Julia?” said Edward, and she gave him a guilty look, wondering how she could explain such ridiculous alarm to him, but then he only said, in mild puzzlement, “Well? You did want tea, didn’t you?”
Despite her best intentions, she still found it a difficult day to get through, silly as that was. As if it was fine to be happy on any other day of the week or month, or as if this could be described as perfect, when they were here in weather that remained obstinately wet and not at all snowy, and she was with Edward who wouldn’t even hold her hand in church last night because he didn’t think it was appropriate (and who fussed far too much about putting his clothes away neatly each night, even when half of them were bound to be going in the laundry the next morning).
She covered herself by claiming to be worried about the dinner, which she wasn’t; it was all quite straight forward, even with Edward theoretically helping, and it wasn’t as if anyone else was here. If she had burned something, it would only have been a joke between them.
By the time that was done and eaten, she was feeling far less wary of everything and more inclined to laugh at herself. And she had a more genuine worry to occupy her mind now - that of whether or not he would like the present she’d bought him. She hoped so. It had taken rather a lot of thought, and much walking up and down of Charing Cross Road, but it might have been better not to try so hard.
“It is a little odd without a tree, isn’t it?” said Edward, observing the room.
Julia pointed to the holly she’d used to decorate the mantelpiece. “I tried my best.”
“I’m sorry,” said Edward. “Yes, of course. I see it now. That’s clearly much better.”
Julia bit back a laugh. “Thank you kindly. Now, do sit down, and open this first because I’ve been worrying that it’s the wrong thing since November.”
“But -” said Edward, and then stopped himself, as he sat beside her on the sofa.
Julia had to look away to hide her amusement. “Oh, I am sorry, darling. Is there a set order for these things?”
“No,” said Edward, but still hesitated.
She poked him and laughed as she handed the parcel to him. “Oh, but clearly there is, in your mind at least. I tell you what, you open that and put me out of my misery first, and then we’ll do the rest in order, and I won’t open yours till last. Does that sound reasonable?”
“No, it sounds entirely unfair,” said Edward, trying not to laugh himself. “However, if you insist, of course.”
Julia settled herself in more comfortably. “I do, I’m afraid.”
He untied the bow and set about unwrapping the three obviously book-shaped packages, with Julia watching intently for his reaction.
“You’ll never believe how long I spent studying your bookshelves,” she said, as he opened the first. “So at least I know that you haven’t got those, although of course, I don’t know if you’ll want them - but I did try very hard, so that counts for something, doesn’t it?”
He’d reached the second now, distracted enough by looking at the two books - both history - so as not to take in what she was saying. “Hmm?”
“Nothing,” said Julia, and smiled, because that was definitely a good sign. “The other one,” she added, as he slowly pulled off the paper, “is because I’ve noticed a strange thing when I go to the library. You see, whenever I get back and decide that I shall now try and read that interesting murder I picked up, it’s always been stolen - and you’ll never guess where I keep finding them.”
He laughed. “Julia! Thank you.”
“Good,” she said, and smiled at him in relief.
They opened the few other presents, then, mostly from his relatives, although there was one from her uncle, which she’d been extremely annoyed to receive, all the more so because Edward had insisted she buy her uncle something from them, however small. He was her only close living relative, and he was bound to give her something, he’d said, and she’d initially argued with him over it, since the last thing she felt like doing to Uncle Lionel was giving him a present, and she’d claimed that he was a heartless old man who probably didn’t bother with Christmas anyway, not unlike Scrooge, so his arrival one afternoon last week to wish them merry Christmas and hand over a gift had not gone down well with Julia, although Edward had at least got to say that he’d told her so.
Julia realised then that they’d opened the last present, with one important omission, and she looked at Edward, knowing he was teasing her, keeping her waiting, except that she couldn’t help feeling suddenly uncertain again. Maybe this week was the present? Maybe everything was. When you looked at it that way, he’d given her so much already.
Edward leaned forward and grinned. “Close your eyes,” he said.
“Oh, really,” said Julia, but she obeyed, trying at the same time not to laugh over her momentary foolishness. She opened her eyes again, when she felt him place the present in her lap. She pulled off the paper and opened up the case inside, realising that it must be some kind of jewellery. She found herself looking at a silver necklace, with delicate sprays of tiny diamonds hanging down from it, and matching earrings, and it was too much suddenly in every way possible.
She dropped the box, feeling light-headed and slightly sick. It was too perfect, too much, as if somehow it made her exactly what all the gossips seemed to think she was - in this marriage for everything she could get from him. And underneath it lay the terror at trying to reach for more than she’d been permitted from life, or at least more than she deserved.
“Julia,” he said, his teasing humour falling swiftly into dismay at her reaction. “Don’t you like it? I wasn’t sure - but you don’t have to keep it -”
She didn’t have any idea how to answer him; she merely shook her head, not so much in answer as to ward away his questions, and then she jumped up and left the room at a run, convinced for one moment that she actually was going to be sick, but by the time she reached the door, the feeling had passed, and she sank down on the doorstep, heedless of the damp and cold, shaken and ashamed of herself. She leant her head against the doorway and tried not to cry. It wasn’t really the gift itself, she supposed, only the culmination of the fear that had been dogging her, not only this holiday, but from the first moment she’d truly realised what she’d done in marrying Edward.
It was an unexpected gift she’d been given, and she was too afraid to accept it fully. She knew it wasn’t rational to feel this way, but it was a deep down, illogical conviction she hadn’t yet been able to shake; that if she let go of these worries and took hold of this, of Edward, that she would inevitably lose him. The people she loved were always taken away; that was how it was.
“Julia,” said Edward from somewhere behind her. She didn’t turn around to look. He sounded as if he was trying with difficulty to reserve judgement, probably understandably annoyed at her odd behaviour. “At least come back inside.”
She breathed in, wondering if she might feel sick again, but she didn’t, so she stood cautiously and turned around to look at him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It wasn’t your present, not really. It was only -” She let her voice tail away and shrugged.
“I merely thought you might like it,” he said, sounding stiff, and she had to blink back mixed tears and amusement at his understandable bafflement. “I can see I should have let you choose.”
She pushed the door shut behind her, and wiped away her tears. “Oh, no, Edward. Don’t - it isn’t that, I promise.” She gave a slight laugh. “It was too nice! I just -” She stopped again, wondering how to explain the rest of it to him.
“It won’t be a problem to return it,” he said, evidently doubting her, and she could hardly blame him. “You don’t need to pretend.”
Julia straightened herself, her back still against the door, and raised her chin. “Oh, no, no, you don’t understand,” she said, moving forward, and taking his arm. “Honestly, it isn’t that. I think it might be the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever given me, and if you take it back to the shop, I shall never speak to you again!”
Her hyperbole won a small smile from him, and she let him usher back into the cosier sitting room.
“Then, Julia, why?” he asked, putting his hand to her shoulder. “Aren’t you feeling well?”
She walked past him, back to the sofa, and then sat down beside it on the rug by the fire. “No, not really.” She could lie, she thought, but it wouldn’t be the best idea. “Oh, Ned, it’s all so silly. Please, forget it. And the necklace is lovely, honestly, and it’ll go so well with the dress for Diana’s party.”
“I thought it might do,” he said, “but I’m hardly the best judge of these things.”
Julia closed her eyes. “It was only - a little too much. Everything was so nice already, and sometimes - sometimes people talk about us, you know. Because the marriage was so sudden. And they say - well, you know what they say.”
“Yes, but you and I know that’s not true,” he said, and then sat down beside her. “Don’t we?” he asked, looking at her.
She nodded. “Except that in some ways, they are right. What exactly is my end of the bargain, Edward? A few dinner parties here and there, and then all I do is - just take everything. I don’t like that being true.”
“Oh, honestly, Julia!” he said in sudden impatience. “What do you think I am? And it isn’t a bargain any more, not like that. Isn’t that what you told me? Or was that a lie?”
“No, no!” said Julia. “You know I meant it.”
Edward gave a slight, helpless shrug. “Well, then,” he said, as if that was answer to everything and Julia didn’t need him to explain. If she loved him, as she claimed, how could she talk of not giving him anything?
Julia hunched a little, beginning to feel merely petty and unreasonable. “It made my present look so stupid and small.”
“No, it didn’t,” said Edward. “Julia! You know, someone was telling me the other day that women shouldn’t work - makes them too independent. I thought he was talking nonsense, but perhaps he has a point.”
Julia lifted her head, unable to help rising to the bait. “Oh?” she said. “Who was that, exactly? I shall certainly cross them off the dinner list.”
“It’s no sillier to give very much credence to that sort of thing, than taking to heart to what other people say about us.” He slid his arm around her, and gave her a sidelong, humorous look. “Or do you think they know things that we don’t? It is possible, I suppose.”
She bit her lip, feeling that she might easily cry if she let herself laugh, and, anyway, he was quite obviously trying to nudge her into a better mood and she wasn’t sure she wanted to let him, if for no other reason than pure pig-headedness. “Oh, be all logical,” she said.
“I’m not,” he said, more seriously. “Logic would suggest that you must have disliked something about the necklace - or that you had been lying, wouldn’t it?”
Julia shot him an alarmed look.
“As it happens,” he said, tilting his head as he met her gaze, “I find that an awful lot of people aren’t always very logical, don’t you?”
She did laugh, then, and leant against him. “I can’t help it,” she said. “It’s not only that, you see, but I get so scared - as if I’m simply asking for fate to take you away if I’m not careful. If everything’s too perfect, even for a moment, then - I suppose I panic. I know that certainly isn’t logical, but it doesn’t stop me feeling that way. Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but it isn’t the first time this has happened, and I’m sorry.”
Edward didn’t say anything immediately, though he tightened his hold on her, and she looked up them as she realised he was trying not to laugh.
“Edward!”
“Well, Julia,” he said, still smiling as he looked at her, “you come with a curse attached, do you, like some Egyptian relic? I knew there had to be a catch somewhere.”
Julia drew in her breath to try and answer him, but he kissed her instead, and she didn’t really feel inclined to be as annoyed as she probably should be about that.
“I don’t mean to be unkind,” he said, with one hand still touching her face, lightly. “I’m sure it must have been difficult for you - but do you think that everyone else who suffered similar losses during the War has to share that curse, or is it only you?”
Julia pressed her head in against him. “Only me, of course,” she said, and while she was amused, too, she couldn’t help feeling nervous. She’d told him that she loved him; she hadn’t told him before that she still didn’t really have anyone else and that she was terrified of losing him. That wasn’t a wise thing to admit, and now she had, quite clearly, even if in a roundabout way. She thought then about how she’d drawn his confession of his feelings out of him that first week together, and the way she’d felt sometimes since then as if she had an unfair advantage. Now, the advantage was his, and she felt shaken in ways both good and bad. It wasn’t what she’d planned on giving him today, but it seemed she had.
“Julia,” he said, pushing her away gently, so that he could kiss her again. “Something will happen one day; that’s life, it’s guaranteed. And I can understand the feeling, but -”
She put her arms around him, cutting him short. “I know,” she said, indistinctly. “I know. It’s so silly.”
“Now, I didn’t say that,” he told her, stroking her hair. “And you needn’t worry. Perfection is probably beyond us, anyway. Certainly, if it makes you feel better, I’m sure we can manage to argue again before the day is out - one day, I may even be cruel enough to give you jewellery again!”
Julia laughed, and then pulled him in against her, closing her eyes. “No, it is stupid of me,” she said in his ear, before kissing him in return. She still felt light-headed with nerves, and perhaps simultaneously with relief. She hung onto him, and then added, “Well, you were right, you know. It would never have done for us to have gone to your family.”
“Quite,” he said. “It would definitely be frowned upon to carry on like this in the living room.”
It was much, much too late to panic, and had been for a long while. There was nothing she could do to make the hurt of losing him less when it came; she supposed the same was probably true of him, and there was no reason not to steal any moments of happiness that came their way. She had, she thought, been in much too deep from the start.
***